


Flashing Lights

by MaliceLuna



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Confusion, Depression, Developing Relationship, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-18 11:49:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21710287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaliceLuna/pseuds/MaliceLuna
Summary: Wilson's having a rough time coming to terms with what he's feeling. House thinks Wilson is depressed.
Relationships: Greg House/James Wilson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 117





	Flashing Lights

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I don't own House. 
> 
> Just to let you know as I do in most stories, I do tend to stretch the truth/characters emotions/feelings a lot for the story to work.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it. Thank you so much for checking it out!

Pressing hands to his head, Wilson squinted both eyes. Staring deeply into the darkness of his office, wondering why in the world this happened. This morning was a rough one, one of his younger patients passed away so suddenly, even his parents weren’t sure how it happened. Chewing on the cap of his pen, Wilson looked down at the file, reading it over and over again to see if they missed anything.

A knock to his already cracked open door didn’t lift his attention, scanning the words. “It’s not going to help you to beat yourself up over a dead kid.” frowning, his brown eyes slowly lifted to meet bright blues, “And it wouldn’t kill you to actually have a bit of sympathy. A four year old just suddenly died this morning, his blood count was fine, no fever, no infections.” he could hear House’s cane limping towards the chair in front of the desk, sitting.

“You’re going to beat yourself up over a dead kid because you think you got the blood count wrong?” tapping the papers against his desk, Wilson scowled. “I’m going to beat myself up because I can’t figure out why.” “Why does there have to be one? It just wasn’t his chance. Everyone dies, you know this. This place is full of death.” House fiddled with his cane, twisting it in uncomfortable hands. Wilson could tell this was just not the conversation House wanted to have.  
  
House had left, Wilson still buried in the files. He knew that talking about it would just make House leave sooner, so instead they sat in an awkward silence, House interrupting it to tell him he’d meet him after work for dinner. Chewing more on the pen cap, flipping through the pages, he just couldn’t wrap his mind around a young little child, passing in the night without any signs of distress. Did the parents do something to them? ‘ _What is wrong with you. They loved him, didn’t they?_ _Stop thinking like House._ ’ a little chuckle. “If you were thinking like House, you’d just move onto the next case.”

A few cups of coffee, Wilson got more pages of patients turning for the worse. He’d hurried off to check on them, see what was happening. Some scares, others serious. His floor felt like a murder house. Bringing hands to his messy brown hair, fluffing it around in frustration, he’d hid away in an empty room just to collect himself.

A few more patient checks, he’d slowly headed out to the elevator, it was the end of his shift. Things seemed to have calmed down, he told the nurses to keep an ear out and if anything seemed off to page him right away. Door closed, lobby in view and a hobbling man waiting for him at the exit. Motorcycle jacket on. What a handsome sight, Wilson thought. Meeting up with him, House looked bored “You took forever, I was about to page up there and tell them to shove you down the stairs.”

Heading out, Wilson convinced House to drive behind him and head to the older man’s apartment. Watching the man put on that helmet, slamming the lid down. Charming. Turning on his car, pulling out and taking the same road he always took to the same apartment he spent most his nights at. Though they were friends.

Parking his car, House came in beside him. Taking off that helmet and slipping clumsily off the bike. A snort of laughter from Wilson, turning his head away. He pretended to be getting out of the car instead of laughing. House had his cane, heading for the doorstep. Wilson grabbed his coat and suitcase, slamming his door closed and jogging up to meet with House.

Inside, same routine, same show with a different episode. Beer and food, laughter and tiredness. Eventually House hobbled off to bed, leaving Wilson alone in the dark. Sitting there sipping his beer, staring off at the blank TV with such intent, he’d wait. As soon as the click of House’s door hit ears, Wilson set the beer down and slowly stood up. Turning to the kitchen he’d make his way to the counter.

Leaning elbows against the marble he’d look at the knives. He was never one for suicide, not one for giving death that satisfaction. His fingers flipped out and gently traced the tip of a sharp kitchen knife, seeing just how sharp it was against skin. He could feel a small tear, blood dripping. “Keep these sharp, huh?” muttered to himself. The hand dropped down to the handle, slipping it from the holder and holding it tightly. Turning around he’d stare, almost like the reflection on the knife would give him the secrets to life.

Eyes narrowed, his heart heavy with the only thought he could muster to amuse himself with. ‘Depressed, James?’ mocking himself, a small bitter laugh. ‘ _Run out of ideas to save your patients, rinse and repeat the situation till something sticks. You’re just saving time and buying lives to keep yourself so satisfied. Don’t act so surprised when they die, it’s unbecoming of you._ ’

“What are you doing?” Wilson’s eyes snapped up, quickly as though he wasn’t already caught wielding the knife had tried to dispose of it, only forgetting to fully let go as it hit the floor. A hiss, his hand came up and started to shake, only shaking drops of blood everywhere. He stopped at the sudden realisation he’d sliced himself open enough that blood was pouring out in all directions.  
  
House limped over grabbing a towel, lifting Wilson’s hand to his view and pressing it down against the open wound, “What were you doing exactly? Practising for some musical play for the children called ‘I give thy blood.’” Wilson snorted, flinching at the pressure. “Not exactly.” was a bitter response. This raised House’s eyebrows in curiosity. “So bitter, James. Don’t tell me you were actually thinking of offing yourself?” catching himself, Wilson looked at House instead of away, staring into the blue eyes “Ha? no. I don’t think that was my intention. I don’t seem the type.”

“There’s a type now? Do explain.” House lifted the cloth from the wound and shook his head with a few tsk’s of a sound. “Cut yourself pretty good, might need stitches. Either way it’s right down the middle of your palm, what a bitch of a pain that’s going to be.” Wilson slowly looked over House to see him in no shirt, eyes wandering to notice he was in boxers too. “Wait, why did you come back out here exactly?” House looked up at Wilson’s eyes, “Didn’t expect to be caught playing with knives? I forgot water. Can’t sleep without a sippy cup next to my bed.”

“I wasn’t doing anything wrong to worry about being caught. I was just looking.” House made a mocking noise “Just looking, just looking at what? Something you see every day? what’s so different about this one. You’ve used it before.” Wilson stepped back, yanking his hand away. “I’m fine. I just lost what I was doing, you startled me. Otherwise I’d of put it back normally. You know, without cutting my palm open. If I was going for suicide I’d go for the big guns.” he pulled up his fingers and imitated guns.  
  
House shook his head and tossed the cloth to Wilson, watching him catch it. “Just don’t bleed on my couch, I’ll see you in the morning.”

Flopping back down on the couch, Wilson noticed House didn’t fully close the door, rolling eyes he’d lean back and stare into the TV again. Better to lay low and not get on the suicide watch list.

Morning had come, Wilson was startled by something hitting him in the legs. Both eyes slowly opened and looked to House, he was shoving his legs off the coffee table, “You slept like that? Monster.” House shoved the legs off finally, even though there was room on the other side to walk.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Wilson would assume so. He looked at two cups of coffee from House, one set down in front of him he took it and sipped. The warmth felt so nice. “I’m out of food, so no breakfast. Should pick something up on the way home tonight.” a nod from Wilson, another sip of his coffee. He didn’t notice the look he was getting from the other man, those blue eyes staring deeply into him. Instead he’d focused on this hot cup of coffee to help him get through the morning.  
  
House rode his bike, Wilson took his car. They’d both left the apartment at the same time but House was so far ahead he’d gotten out of Wilson’s sight. Hitting a stop light, Wilson stared at the speeding cars trying to make the light. He looked into his rear view mirror at cars slowing behind him. All he could think of was a car crash. How it would feel to be jerked around in a heavy crush of metal. Chewing on his lower lip, he looked up to notice his light was green and drove. Instead of heading to work he pulled to a cliff side, parking in the grass. Popping out the car side he peeked over the ledge, leaning against the railing to prevent cars from crashing over.

Staring down at the drop, his mind thought about how far it would be to fall, how much damage it would cause to a person and a vehicle, but mostly a person in a vehicle. Bringing a hand down to his side, he rubbed it. Thinking about the broken ribs, maybe collapsed lungs, brain injury it would create if unlucky. Would the car explode? Maybe. Slowly pushing back from the railing he turned back to his car, getting inside. Back to the drive.

Parking in his spot, he noticed House’s bike in it’s normal spot at the front of the Hospital, he slowly pulled out of his car, sluggishly grabbing his things and slamming the door shut. Inside he was greeted by Lisa who said House had just passed through, giving a shrug and looking down at the files he scrolled through them with fingertips. His pager went off before he could even sit down at his desk, an emergency.

Hurrying to his floor, he was told a patient was being violent. Brows furrowed as he moved into the room, two male nurses were trying to calm him down but he had a needle close to his neck now, threatening to do it. “What’s in that?” Wilson muttered, they said they didn’t know, when they got here he had it, Wilson wondered if someone brought it for him. Holding his hands out, “Dave, relax. It’s OK. There’s no need to hurt yourself.” the pain and fear on the mans face just reminded him of how he felt, just deep in his mind. Would this be him one day? On the brink of a suicidal meltdown.

“Just let me have the needle, I promise nothing will happen to you, we’ll get you back into bed and cleaned up. We just want you to be better.” he could see Dave, he could see so far past those eyes he knew. He watched as the man injected himself. And just as the fluid went into his veins, the man fell to the floor. Nurses rushed past him, kicking the needle away and yelling for a crash cart.  
  
Sitting in his office, a hand on his face, holding him up as he filled out the paperwork for the suicide, a cup of coffee sat down in front of him, he was so engrossed in the paperwork he didn’t hear House’s cane thumping against the floor. Looking up he tiredly stared at his best friend, giving off a small sad little smile. “Sounds like you’ve had a rough morning. Guy offed himself huh?” a nod, Wilson just saw House linger and then sit, “Can I ask you something, Jimmy?” brown eyes blinked.

“Mm?” was a reply, a short and tired one. “Are you depressed?” lowering his pen, Wilson closed the paperwork. Placing both hands on the desk as he thought about it, “Am I depressed?” He repeated, almost like it would help the answer come better.   
  
“What were you really doing with that knife in the kitchen. I know you weren’t planning on cutting onions” House leaned forward, “I’m not depressed House. I’m fine. I’m just tired and it seems like everyone on my floor is either dying or killing themselves.” throwing his hands up and leaning back against the chair. ‘ _And my best friend doesn’t know I’m in love with him._ ’ “Really? Cause your eyes looked lost. What were you thinking to make them look so hallow.” Wilson brought a hand to his chest and rubbed it gently, “Hallow? I think you were just seeing things, Greg.”   
  
House annoyed that he was getting no answered took the coffee away from Wilson and sipped it. “You on medication for it?” Wilson leaned forward, staring at House “for what? Houseanitous? no. they said there is no cure.” House smirked, “Deflection.” Leaning back, placing both hands together on the desk “Deflection of what?” House decided to lean forward now, closing the space between him and Wilson, “Depression.”   
  
“House I’m not depressed. I’m tired, there’s a big difference.” watching the older man nod, “Oh yes, yes of course. A knife in your hands when you thought I was going to bed, that look of want in your eyes while you stared at the sharp blade. Mm, mm. I must be seeing things!” Wilson slowly stood, grabbing some files to take home. “Very charming. Do you always think someone’s suicidal when they hold knives in the kitchen?” A shrug of the older mans shoulders “No. Only when they look dead on the outside. What’s going on, Wilson? Am I going to find you dead in a hotel room.” a small chuckle, the shorter one shook his head “That’s ridiculous-” “Is it? I don’t think it’s that far fetched.” Wilson waved his hand, grabbing his suitcase and shoving the files inside. “Good night, Greg.”  
  
He could hear the cane slapping behind him, turning and looking back to see House hurrying to catch up, so he slowed down. “Are you going to follow me?” House got to his side finally, giving off a sigh “I mean, if my best friend is showing signs of possible suicide of course I’m going to invade any personal space you thought you had.”   
  
“House I’m not-”  
  
“Depressed.”  
  
Sigh.

Keys in an ignition, tap to his window, rolled down. “House?” he leaned over the passenger seat and looked at the older man, “Come home with me tonight.” brown eyes looked down a small smile ‘ _If only you knew._ ’ “Not tonight, House. I have a lot of paperwork to go through.” a wave of a hand, pulling the passenger door open “House?” a body came to sit down in the seat next to him, Wilson had to lean away not to be sat on. Adjusting himself in the drivers seat, he turned the engine off. “What are you doing holding me hostage in my own car.”   
  
“I’m not holding you anywhere, I’m just coming along.” Wilson put the car back into park, “And what? Watch me while I finish signing some papers and prepare for my meeting tomorrow?” a nod, Wilson chuckled. “Come on Greg, you know that you’d be bored before we even had dinner. Then I’d never get anything done.”

He watched as House reached over, closing the door and then taking another hand against his own, the heat. Watching as House put the keys into the ignition using his own hand and turning the key. Brown eyes looked concerned, though he took the hint and flicked lights on, putting the car in reverse. Drive.  
  
Wilson parked in the spot near House’s apartment again, he ended up just driving here. Looking at the man sitting next to him playing with his cane, he just went and unbuckled himself. “If you’re going to off yourself you better tell me.” throwing his hands up, Wilson looked annoyed “What’s the point in offing yourself if you are going to call someone to stop you? That’s the complete opposite effect.” the older man leaned back, “So you are thinking about it?” coughing, Wilson placed a hand to his chest, “Honestly House, It’s like you’re trying to make me admit something I never once showed signs of. I’m fine. I’m just-” “Tired and hungry.” House interrupted him.

“Like you haven’t thought about offing yourself, come on. You’ve done some crazy shit that leads you to either be almost dead, dead for a bit or hospitalised for weeks. I don’t want to hear it from you.” watching House unbuckle his seat, “But I wasn’t depressed.” Wilson groaned, “House, I’m not depressed!”

‘ _I’m in love and lost_ ’ Wilson thought.  
  
Entered the apartment, his shoes by the coat hanger, his jacket resting in the correct place. House ahead of him, looking for something to eat. Brown eyes looked down at the floor, he shut the door and locked it. Making way to the couch he’d make bed on later that night. It never helped his back.   
  
“What do you want to eat tonight? I forgot to pick anything up.” Wilson waved a hand as he rested against the cushions. “It’s because you refused to leave my car so I could go pick something up. You know I’d end up here later tonight.” Wilson hated how surely that sounded. Matter of factually.   
  
An hour of thought, Chinese was ordered. He picked through his box, not very hungry. Watching a soap opera they missed that morning, so they watched what was recorded. His eyes slowly moved over to House, watching him eat and eyes set so keen on that TV. ‘ _Wish you’d look at me like you do the TV._ ’ a snort, he coughed almost choking on his food. Quickly looking away. A pat to his back from House.  
  
“Don’t choke, did you forget how to swallow?” Wilson grunted, patting his chest clearing it all out with small coughs, “Yep. Sure did.”

Bedtime hit fast, Wilson was left alone in the living room. Leaning back on the sofa cushions, beer in hand and tipping it back to enjoy the last drop. Leaning forward he placed the beer bottle on the table and slowly stood up, retracing his steps to the kitchen counter. Pressing his elbows on it once more and looked around for the friendly face of the sharp knives. He frowned, they were gone. Leaning away from the counter he checked the cabinets. Nothing.  
  
Turning around he leaned his back on the space. Eyeing around the living room for a moment or two. “Did he really hide them?” pressing a finger to lips, House really thought he was going to kill himself.

Grabbing his car keys and coat, he made out for his car. Making sure House’s door was locked before leaving. Car on, lights and reverse. On the road again in the middle of the night, maybe a bit tipsy. It felt like hours he’d been out, mindlessly driving when his phone went off. Ignoring it. It went off over and over again. Wilson pulled over on the side of an abandoned road. Grabbing his phone and popping out the car. When it rang again he finally answered it.  
  
“Hello?” House’s voice on the other end growled “Wilson, where the hell did you go?” looking up at the night sky, covered by trees, he leaned against the door of his car. “I went out to get food for the morning.” a lie, but now he actually had something to do on his way back. “At two in the morning? Give me a break. You’ve had beer, you shouldn’t be driving.” a nod, Wilson did drink, but he didn’t think he was drunk. Not even tipsy. “House, I only had a beer, I’m not tipsy or drunk. I’m well enough to know how to use my own car. Why are you awake?”  
“Oh. I don’t know, went to pee and found the living room empty. Keys gone and a man who was supposed to sleep on my couch gone.” a huff from the younger man “So you expected me to sit and be a good couch warmer for you? Come on, Greg. I just went out to clear my head and get some breakfast for the morning. I don’t want to have nothing to eat but Chinese leftovers.“He could hear the pause in House’s breath, then it slowly let out “Come back James.”   
  
Wilson’s heart skipped a beat, bringing his hand to where it rested. The sound of House’s voice had hit him, the concern and plea coming from the other line almost made him get back into the car. Almost. Gripping the cellphone tightly between fingers, keeping it pressed against his ear, he wanted to hear it again. “James?” eyes closed, chewing on his lower lip, Lowering the phone, Wilson hung it up, shoving it back into a pocket.

Pressing his body against the door more, arms wrapped around himself feeling his phone vibrate.   
  
“What is wrong with you, James? He needed you.” a scowl, they were both so needy. Bringing hands up to run fingertips through his brown hair, messing it up. A frustrated groan. His phone was vibrating more. He pulled it out of his pocket, opening his car door and tossing it into the back seat. Sitting back down in the drivers side, pulling legs into the car and shutting the door.

Turning the car back on and setting out to drive.

Wilson had made few runs to different stores, grabbing breakfast items. His phone finally stopped vibrating an hour ago. It was just him, his car engine and the radio. He’d bought House more coffee, knowing if he stayed they’d need more.

Taking the back roads, it’d put more time on him getting back, but it’d give him more time to think. He needed to confess to House, tell him what’s wrong, why he’s felt so lost, so upset lately. Why sometimes he just felt there was no real reason to bother anymore. The risk of losing House weighed heavy on his shoulders, but the thought of just keeping their lives the way it had been weighed heavier on his heart.

Pressing his foot to the gas, there was a windy road up ahead. He just felt like experiencing the rush. It looked like no one was there, no harm if he didn’t get caught. Gripping the steering wheel, a small grin on his lips at the feeling of speed. He took the corners tightly, hearing his tires screeching. “Yeah!” he yelled, leaning forward in his seat, another turn and he’d calm down. Slow the speed down, he just wanted to take this last turn.

Gripping the wheel, he prepared to turn it. Headlights. His mind blanked out. Fear of knowing he needed to slow down, but it wouldn’t happen at this speed, he quickly grabbed his emergency break, yanking it up, the tires smelled of burning rubber as they tried to stop. He turned his wheel tightly, the car came up on him as he did his best to avoid it. All this happened in just a second.

He could feel his car flying. Touching nothing but fear. He’d clipped the car, just at an angle it flipped on the turn, sending him flying into the air for a moment. His car bent the railing to stop him from going over. Glass shattered everywhere, and though he thought the railing would stop him, it snapped. Sending him to lean over the edge more. He was upside down, his breaks wouldn’t work. Pressing hands to the roof, he groaned, looking at the car he’d clipped speed off.

“W-what are you panicking about! I hit you!” he cried out, everything hurt. His airbag hadn’t gone off. Something must have broke. Besides his ribs. Heavy breathing, hands feeling around frantically for an escape, he felt the car tilt. He didn’t know how close to falling he was. Not wanting to look. Brown eyes snapped over to the phone, laying there with a cracked screen. His arm stretched, just barely out of reach, his fingers shoved It closer. He could see blood dripping from his face. He could feel the warmth of it spreading, but where the wound was, unsure.

Flipping the phone open, he breathed heavy. Pressing his first contact and letting it auto dial. Ring after ring made him nervous. He hit the voice mail, ended the call and tried again right after. This time someone picked up, he could hear a motorbike. House must have been out looking for him.  
  
“Wilson? The hell are you. I’ve been out here for fucking hours.” _calm, James._ “I’m upside down.” House made a noise of confusion “Upside down? Are you hanging from a tree? At the playground? What the hell is this cryptic shit.” Typical House, running through it like a puzzle. “I’m around that bend, you know the one near the gas station? I clipped a passing by car and flipped..they drove off.” He could hear the sound of House’s bike revving up. “You’re hanging off the fucking cliff? Were you speeding? Jesus Christ.” now he could hear House speeding on his bike.  
  
“Talk to me, how bad are you?”   
  
“Not sure. I hurt, but I’m not sure if it’s from the flip or impact. My airbag didn’t go off.”  
  
“Have you called 911 yet? Is anyone coming?”  
  
“No. Just you.”  
  
Small conversation between the two, probably to make sure House knew exactly every second Wilson spent in the car was not killing him. Wilson kept a hand pressed to the roof, as if it would help the blood not flow to his brain, he felt dizzy. Heavy.  
  
He could hear the motor not only from the phone, he knew House was close. “Slow down, you’re close. We don’t need us both dead.” this didn’t amuse House. A screeching halt to tires, he could see a cane and legs, eyes were fluttering to stay awake. He hadn’t undone his belt yet, afraid movement would tilt the car. House bent down to the window and looked inside, watching blue eyes look around the car soon after.   
  
“What’s my chances?” Wilson muttered, House carefully broke the rest of the glass to the passengers side window. “Slim, you idiot. Did you seriously speed around this corner? Not even I’m that moronic.” a snort from Wilson, his hand carefully went to his seat buckle.   
  
“When you unbuckle, I want you to slowly lower yourself down. Then crawl to me. If you try and go out your side, you’ll tilt the car. If you feel the car shifting, your legs better not be broken because you’ll need to quickly get out. No way I can stop this massive metal monster from sliding off.” House sounded a bit concerned, Wilson licked dry lips, he tasted blood in his mouth. Must have busted his lip.

“So is this your way of telling me you wanted to die in a blaze of glory?”   
  
“I sure failed if that was my idea.”  
  
“Moron.”  
  
“I’m unbuckling now.” he could see House crouch more, careful to touch the car, his hand slowly came in, waiting for Wilson to grab it. “Anything feel broken before I rip you out?” unsure, Wilson was just unable to focus with all the blood that rushed to his head “I can’t tell, my heads so heavy.” House nodded, fingers wiggling in wait.   
  
A click of his belt, he slammed into the ceiling a little rougher than he wanted, wince. Quickly his hand reached out for House, grabbing fingers and latching onto a wrist. He could feel the car shifting now that his weight had hit the ceiling. A yank to his arm, he cried out from the pain of glass ripping his knees and hand up, was his wrist broken? He quickly placed knees against the roof, reaching the window. He was ripped out as the car slid away. 

His body rested against the others, heavy breathing from both. 

He could hear the metal breaking on it’s way down.

Everything hurt. He thought for a second House was speaking to him, it was clouded by the darkness that washed over him.  Being upside down to right side up didn’t favour him.

Beeping,  n oises, voices speaking hushed close by.  Brown eyes slowly opened to the dimly lit room, it smelled like a hospital. Looking at the monitors, IV bag. He couldn’t move his left arm, it felt pretty heavy, a little glance down he noticed it in a cast. Must have broken his wrist.  Blurry vision lifting to the two at the door, one was tall and the other was a short woman. The way she stood with her hands on hips, it was Lisa.  Was she scolding House? Or maybe trying to get the full story out of him. Was he telling her how he thought Wilson was suicidal and this proved it? 

Wilson wasn’t suicidal, he just had thoughts he’d never commit to.  Who didn’t?

He must have breathed a bit too loudly, both of them stopped talking to look over. Noticing him awake, they slowly moved over, House sat next to him and Lisa stood near House, hand on the mans shoulder to lean in. “James?” she spoke softly, he made a small noise. “How are you feeling?” swallowing down a dry throat, he licked lips, feeling stitches. “Tired” a small p athetic attempt at a giggle from Lisa. “I wouldn’t be surprised, you have a broken wrist, busted lip, bruised ribs and a sprained ankle. You’re extremely lucky nothing else happened.” 

‘ _Lucky huh? I guess being alive is considered lucky._ ’

Brown eyes searched for blues, locking into them he could tell House was disappointed. “Once we check a few more things you’ll be out of here in a day or two. Just want to make sure your brain doesn’t start bleeding. You did get a good lump on your noggin.”  House wasn’t speaking. Lisa just explained everything and then went on her way back to work, saying she’d be back later tonight.  
  
House went checking the machines, making sure his pain medication was on point. “I was coming back home.” Wilson whispered, “I’d just bought tons of food for breakfast.” blue eyes wandered back to Wilson’s brown, “Oh. So you thought you’d just have a little fun on a dangerous road, little speed demon in you flickering out?” anger. Wilson deserved it. “Something like that. I needed to experience a rush. I didn’t see anyone on the road, I was having fun. I get why you like your bike so much.”

A  hum from House, “Except I’m better at it than you.” Wilson snorted, bringing his good arm up and rubbing his head gently. Feeling the lump. “No, you’re just luckier than myself, House. I noticed the car too late, hit it just a small bit but I guess the speed of my car was too great and flipped me. That other car ran like they did it.” “Or.” House started, “They were doing something they didn’t want police involved  in and you just happened to do something so stupid that in their minds, your life was less than their drug induced high.”

Falling asleep, waking up, drinking water. Night turned to morning and he was checked on by Cameron, Chase and sometimes Foremen.  House was almost always there when he woke from his sleep. Resting in that chair next to him.  Soon he was released from the hospital when a few scans by House were enough to let him go home.  House decided Wilson wouldn’t be riding with him on his bike for awhile, instead House ordered a cab. A cab that took them both to House’s apartment.

I nside he noticed his sleep spot on the couch was gone, House didn’t seem interested in making it either. Confused, Wilson slowly sat down on the couch and winced at the pains. A pop and two pills from House’s hand invited him to take them, drinking it down with water. He’d pass out soon after.

Waking up to a small nudge, brown eyes slowly opened. He could see a hand held out to him. Looking at House in confusion, he reached out with his good hand taking the long slender fingers with his own.  Helped up he was lead down the hallway to House’s room. Two limping men moved to get into bed, his sprained ankle giving him issues. Though once in the soft warmth of House’s bed, his blurry mind just allowed him to remember where he was before passing out.

W ilson had slept in, brown eyes slowly opening to an empty bedside. Though a note. Slowly reaching out he took the folded piece of paper and opened it.

‘Gone out to get some food for dinner. Stay in bed.’  
  
What a weird feeling to wake up to. House was taking care of him. Tired brown eyes just had enough time to look around the room a bit, then close.

Noises, his eyes slowly opened again, this time there was more sun in the room than earlier. Looking at the alarm clock on House’s side he squinted, It was past noon. He could hear someone in the kitchen, slowly sitting up and adjusting himself to get off the bed. Careful of his ankle, he limped to the opening area of House’s apartment. Seeing the older man putting away food, it looked like he was preparing lunch.  His mind was still a blob of a mess from the medication he was on, it just all felt like a really happy fuzzy dream.

“Morning. Surprised you managed to roll yourself out of bed.” Wilson pulled a chair from the table out, slowly sitting. Cradling his broken wrist in the cast, like it would do anything from in the mould. A glass of water sat down at the table for him, he drank it.   
  
“I’m not depressed.” Wilson slurred, brows furrowed at his own voice.  
  
“So what are you? Seemed pretty reckless to me.”  
  
“Reckless, sure. Depressed, no. In love? Yes.” this raised House’s brows now. The man slowly sat down in the chair near Wilson, “Oh? One of the new nurses in oncology got your attention? I don’t know if that’s love, James. Then again you’re a man who loves the risk of failure. Must be why we work so well together.” a pause, “Though..why would love make you so depressed?” Wilson glared up at House, “I told you. I’m not depressed. How many times do I have to tell you?” House leaned back, “How many times do you have to say it to sound convinced?” Wilson's mouth opened, closed tight and looked away.  
  
“She got someone? That’s all I can think of. You think she’s the one because she’s so nice to you, giggles are your bad jokes and gives you assurance when things go bad.” Shaking his head, Wilson brought his good hand up and rested it against his heavy head. “He.”  
  
“Oh..oh what? A he? Is this some kind of experiment phase? I thought the college years were over with.” House checked over on the soup he was cooking, still had time. “Well- I mean no! I know what I want.” a laugh from House, “Are you sure? You seem a bit confused. I’m sure it’s not the medication talking. You never hit me as a man who was interested in other men. I feel I’ve known you long enough to count all the women you’ve had.” Wilson lowered his hand, staring at House. The older man looked back, eyebrow raised then lowered before his eyes got a bit wide. His mouth made a little circle shape, realisation. Almost like light bulbs went on and busted from the strain.

“You hound.”  
  
“W-what!?”

“You’re in love with me.”  
  
“Stop being an asshole!”

“Hey, hey is that anyway to talk to your future boyfriend?”

“Stop being a jerk, Greg. I’m not in the mood.”  
  
Wilson looked away, embarrassed his friend was treating it like a joke. Typical when House didn’t want to deal with it. “I’m offended you’d think this would be a joke. More so you haven’t asked me out.” Wilson couldn’t handle this, he slowly got up taking a deep breath from the pain in his body. House just watched, waiting for him to calm down.  
  
“So all this was you just trying to reflect how you became interested in men?”  
  
Wilson gave up standing, he slowly lowered himself back down in defeat. “Not interested in men, just interested in you. Do you know how horrifying that is to realise?” House leaned forward, “Why? Because you’re not really sure?” a pained laugh, “No. Because it’s my best friend. And I’m unsure how this will effect us.” a hand waved between them, “So you went on a little depressed mood swing, scaring me half to death because you thought that I’d end the friendship? Do you know who I am? I’m a man of equal opportunity.” 

Wilson slowly lowered his head, “It’s not easy for all of us to be so sexually open like you.” a hand rested carefully on his head, avoiding the lump. “What a torment. Idiot. You’re really such a stupid man.” a groan from Wilson, everything hurt. “I’ll go out with you. As long as you don’t cheat, flirt with the nurses or leave me for no reason.”

Wilson slowly lifted his head, staring at House. “You really didn’t have to try and kill yourself to get my attention.” Wilson’s head flopped back down to hide.

“Oh boy I can’t wait to tell Lisa! she’s going to be soooo jealous~”  
  
“House! Shut up!”  
  



End file.
